


i could see for miles

by thequeenofokay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeenofokay/pseuds/thequeenofokay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>All flights are suspended due to heavy snowfall.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She falls back in her seat and thumps her head against the table. She’s tired, stressed, and anxious to get home. This is just what she needs.</p><p>// jemma gets stuck at an airport on her way home from the academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could see for miles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jemmasimmons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasimmons/gifts).



> \+ for the lovely georgia -- happy birthday!!
> 
> \+ also idek what i'm doing when it comes to fitzsimmons. also this got kinda christmassy??
> 
> \+ title from "holocene" by bon iver

Getting home from the Academy is a _nightmare_.

Not that Jemma would ever complain about attending -- it’s a privilege. Not more than she deserves, but more than she’d ever hoped for.

But it’s so far from home.  Not only is it across an ocean, but being “top secret” seems to mean it has to be hours from a major airport.

When she finally arrives at the terminal she’s been up and travelling since five in the morning, and had to change trains three times.

It starts to snow as she steps inside. She’s glad she doesn’t have to stay out in _that_.

Check In goes smoothly, and by the time she’s through security, she still has an hour and a half to spare.

Never let it be said that Jemma Simmons is ever anything less than early.

(Maybe too early. She could probably have stayed in bed another hour. But that’s not the _point_ , because then she would have been rushed and stressed and… not worth it.)

Her gate number isn’t up yet, so she figures she might as well hide in the back of Starbucks and study. It will be her last chance for a few weeks -- her parents are big into Christmas family bonding, and it’s unlikely she’ll have time to _breathe_ , let alone study.

And she has to keep herself polished. Especially if she wants to stay at the top of the class.

If she doesn’t want _Fitz_ to get ahead of her.

The frustrating thing -- aside from how generally _difficult_ he is -- is that he _could_ be her equal if he would just work for it.

She settles at a table overlooking the runways with a big mug of a winter-themed hot chocolate (caffeine and airplanes don’t mix in her book), a paper on cellular chemistry, and a paper and pen.

Within an hour she has a proposal to go over with her professor as soon as she gets back in a few weeks time. Admittedly, it has some glaring flaws, but she needs a fresh pair of eyes to go over it.

She stands to check if her gate is up yet. Just as the tannoy announces that _all flights are suspended due to heavy snowfall._

She falls back in her seat and thumps her head against the table. She’s tired, stressed, and anxious to get home. This is just what she needs.

‘Jemma?’

She looks up. ‘ _Fitz_? What are you doing here?’

He frowns, dropping uninvited into the seat opposite her. ‘I was heading home,’ he says. ‘Weren’t you?’

‘I was on the six thirty to Heathrow,’ she says. Defensively. Which is stupid, because he has every right to be here too.

‘Well,’ he says. ‘I was too. So.’

She wrinkles her nose and scowls. He _laughs_ at her.

‘What?’ she asks, but he just shakes his head and stands up.

‘Do you want another,’ he asks, pointing to her mug.

‘Oh.’ She passes it up to him. ‘Yes. Thank you. And, actually, a muffin would be nice too,’ she says.

He returns with the muffin and drinks, sets them down, and promptly takes her notebook off her.

‘Hey!’ She makes a swipe to take it back, but he’s already scribbling furiously.

‘Here.’ He hands it back, his writing now overlaying her careful diagrams.

‘I can’t even _read_ this,’ she complains.

‘Lemme just...’ He leans over, and goes over a word so it’s (slightly) clearer. ‘There.’

She reads over again, eyebrows drawn together in focus. ‘Hmm.’ She looks up at him, and he looks almost _nervous_ of her judgement. ‘That’s… quite genius, actually.’

He breaks into a grin. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘So I’ve been told.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Fitz. Don’t spoil the moment.’

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘But do you see, you mostly had it -- it just needs an engineering perspective.’

She nods. ‘Which you have.’

He shrugs. ‘It’s more my field than yours.’

‘You know,’ she says, ‘I’ve never been able to tell if you like me.’ He looks like he wants to interrupt, but she holds up a finger to stop him. ‘But we could make an impressive partnership.’

He blinks at her. ‘Really? You want to work with me? _Properly_ work with me.’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘You _are_ talented Fitz, I don’t think it’s that impossible.’ Bloody hell, she can’t get a read on this boy.

He stares at her for a few seconds more before she nods hard. ‘Yes. Yes, definitely.’

She smiles. ‘Well then. Settled.’

He breaks back into a grin in return. ‘Our class won’t know what hit them when we get back next term.’

She laughs. His eagerness is a little infectious. He snatches the notebook back, and this time she lets him.

By the time their flight is finally called, hours later, they are both exhausted from both the wait, and what Jemma thinks has to be the most productive afternoon of her life. Together they’ve gone over what feels like dozens of both of their designs, adding and providing input for each other.

Jemma’s could try to lie to herself and say she’s a little disappointed that she’s unlikely to be sitting next to Fitz for the flight.

And then he slides in beside her.

She gives him a questioning look, but he just shrugs.

She curls herself up in her blanket and falls asleep barely minutes after takeoff, and if she wakes with her head leaning against his shoulder… he doesn’t seem to complain.

She aches slightly when they land, and he looks as groggy and jetlagged as she feels. They exit the terminal at Heathrow together, him clutching a to-go cup of coffee and her one of tea in the hopes that it will wake them up.

‘I’m getting picked up from here,’ she says. He’ll still have a train ride or two ahead of him. ‘So I guess… I’ll see you in a few weeks.’

‘Definitely.’ He pulls a wooly beanie hat over his head against the cold London weather. ‘See you, Simmons. And send me anything you come up with until then.’

‘You know,’ she says, ‘you can call me Jemma.’

He shakes his head, grins. ‘Nah,’ he says. ‘I like Simmons. I’ll save Jemma for if you’re dying.’

She gives him a _seriously?_ look that she can sense already is going to become regular. ‘I’m a biochemist,’ she says. ‘I think opportunities for near-death are going to be a little hard to come by.’

He laughs. ‘That’s true.’ He looks at her hesitantly for a second, then wraps his arms around her in a quick hug. ‘Merry Christmas, Simmons,’ he says, and starts to walk away from her.

‘Merry Christmas!’ she calls after him.

 


End file.
